51.2

As you walk along White Sky’s outermost platform, you see Elder Murtok Gral leaning out over the railing, eyes focused on the lake. He has a long, thin fishing pole in one hand, casting with quick, practiced motions. His eyes are closed; he seems to be fishing entirely by feel.

His eyes drift open. “I recognize those footsteps,” he says. “I must say, it’s nice to know that Quiet isn’t lurking about anymore. But it does feel different without her. Doesn’t it?”

Clear Elder Murtok with  to ask what there is to do around White Sky.